Familiar
by tmcala
Summary: They could taste the memories, sweet, on the tips of their tongues. Complete!
1. Abby Chapter 1

**A/N: The idea for this lovely (?) composition was conceived while I was cheering a basketball game. What a coincidence, I know! I think if my fellow cheerleaders knew that this is what I do in my head during games, I might be disbanded from the team. Anyway, I hope you like this. I might add more at some point, I haven't decided yet. You can write me a review if you think I should **

* * *

Abby is a photographer. She loves to capture raw emotion in the way only a camera can. No other form of art can preserve every single detail of a moment exactly the way it was. A photo will always be picture perfect. To her, there is something so reassuring about this. The world is full of so few perfect things; she likes knowing that she holds this one medium in the palm of her hand.

She took photography her first semester of freshman year, and now, as a junior, the dark room is her safe haven. It's quiet and secretive and full of potential. For a few years now, Abby's felt a little empty; empty like someone important left her. Sometimes she has the slightly crazy notion that the dark room understands this.

At the suggestion of her older sister, Cree, she started her own photography business of sorts and the school pays her to take pictures on Friday nights at the basketball games. This isn't Abby's favorite kind of photography, action shots of the players and photo-ops of the cheerleaders, but it pays well. She prefers to take candid shots of people, an unplanned expression forever immortalized by the click of a button.

Abby also likes the job because it places her on the outside. She doesn't fit into a group, not the team or the cheerleaders or the fans; she's just there, watching them all. She watches Wally Beetles, a tall, nice boy, as he demands the attention of the crowd with his no-nonsense plays. _Ball to the basket ball to the basket ball to the basket_. While he isn't an Einstein to say the least, that boy can play ball like no tomorrow. He is Abby's favorite player to photograph. There is something so familiar about his expressions. His face scrunches with frustration, head drops with embarrassment, teeth clench with rage, eyes shine with excitement. The simplicity of this boy astounds her.

The cheerleaders annoy her. Abby has never been very girly, she remembers that much, so they are just too much for her. She prefers to blend in, while they want to stand out. She is the background, while they are the focus. Kuki Sanban is one such cheerleader. However, when Abby looks at Kuki, she sees innocence akin to that of a little child. Kuki is always happy, but not because she has to be; it's because she truly is. Abby has never captured such pure joy in anyone other than Kuki.

There is one cheerleader who never asks to have her picture taken, so, naturally, Abby takes her picture most often. She doesn't know this girl's name. She has golden hair and brown eyes. There is a boy named Nigel in some of Abby's art classes and he paints this girl often, but he never does her justice the way Abby does with her pictures. Nigel is angry; Abby has become good at reading other people's eyes. His are full of rage and sadness, like he has seen more than any person should. He's bald too, an eerie baldness that makes Abby's hair stand on edge. She always feels the oddest twinge of guilt when she sees him. Abby can see in this girl's eyes that she carries a lot of weight on her thin shoulders. Abby can see that she holds back; there is so much untapped strength inside this girl. The strength of a leader.

Abby is only supposed to take pictures of the players and cheerleaders, but she can't help that sometimes her camera strays, to one boy in particular. She asked around, his name is Hoagie Gilligan. He's simply great to photograph. His carefree smile, his kind eyes, everything about him works together to create a masterpiece that Abby deems beautiful. When Hoagie is up in those stands, cheering for his best friend Wally, Abby can't help but take pictures of this boy.

He wears a pair of goggles perched on his head. They have yellow tinted lenses. She figures that the goggles are like her red hat, always present, even though she doesn't know why. There are a lot of things Abby doesn't know, like why she is drawn to this boy in the first place. He doesn't have raw simplicity like Wally, and he isn't radiant with joy like Kuki. He isn't filled with strength or rage. He's just…familiar. Familiar like a best friend, familiar like a forgotten roll of film, familiar like a red hat or a pair of goggles.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hokay, so I decided to take the excellent advice given to me and continue this. By the way, thanks for all the lovely reviews, they made me so happy (just ask my friend who was forced to hear about each one). This is my first attempt writing dialogue for any of these characters, so I hope I don't suck. **

* * *

Chapter 1

"Another win for the Cougars! A shout-out goes to our boys and, of course, our fantastic Cougar cheerleaders" the announcer's voice sounds. "Join us next week for a game against the Mustangs that promises to be just as riveting!"

As the band played the school song at full blast, Abby began packing all of her things back into her camera case. She checked to see she had everything twice. She adjusted her cap on her head and was about to stand up."Hiya Abby!" Abby turned around, startled, to find Kuki Sanban standing behind her.

"Hey Kuki," Abby responded unenthusiastically. She knew it wasn't that she disliked the other girl. It was more that you had to be in a certain mood to deal with her bubbly-ness. Abby was rarely in such a mood.

"What did you take pictures of tonight?" Kuki appeared genuinely interested in Abby's photography. If she were anyone else, Abby would assume the interest was feigned. However, Kuki's nearly purple seeming eyes looked at Abby excitedly.

"Abby just took pictures of the same ol' thang," she replied.

Kuki giggled. "You just spoke about yourself in third person. You're so silly sometimes, Abby."

If Abby ever blushed, she would have then. It slipped out sometimes, her tendency to speak in the third person. It was another of those things she simply didn't understand. Because, she knew it wasn't how you were supposed to talk, but it felt so natural that she just couldn't help it.

"Will you show me your pictures? Please? Pretty please?"

Kuki's childish words made Abby smile and give in. She pulled out her camera and turned it on. Abby enjoyed developing film, but she took so many pictures at basketball games it was easier to use a digital camera.

"Hoagie?" Kuki said disbelievingly while looking at the last picture Abby had taken. Her delicate eyebrows shot up in surprise, making her face look even more animated than usual. She clicked the next button a few times. "Lots of Hoagie." Kuki's ever-present smile grew larger. "I know Hoagie Gilligan," she stated simply, a long, manicured finger tapping lightly on the screen. "He's Wally's best friend, you know."

"Ab-I know. It's nothing though. Skip ahead a little; I got some of Wally, too." Abby simply couldn't tell Kuki about how Hoagie made her feel, it was a little bizarre, really. She almost wanted to tell her; she had a fleeting feeling that Kuki might understand.

Kuki smiled again. "I'm having a sleep over tonight, you should come. It'll be super-duper fun!"

"Girl, I don't know. That ain't really how Abby rolls." She sighed. It had slipped out again.

"Please? It's just three girls. Rachel's coming. I think you'll like her, you're both quiet."

Abby found her powers to deny Kuki were slightly less than other people for whatever reason. Kuki kind of made her feel less alone with her over-the-top personality. Abby found herself giving in to the Asian girl's requests yet again. Besides, Abby knew the sleep over would not be awful. It wasn't that she was unable to make friends, it was more that she didn't mind being alone a lot.

* * *

"Abby?" Kuki's voice sounded so small when there was not a smiling face to go with it. The room was dark, but Abby could make out the pure whiteness of Kuki's skin.

"What? I'm tryin' to sleep," Abby responded crabbily.

"Do you know the real reason I invited you tonight?" Abby realized it was not that she couldn't see Kuki's cheerfulness; it was that it wasn't really there at that moment. Kuki was the same age as Abby, but Abby had always kind of seen her as a child. Someone who wasn't capable of having deeper emotions than simple sadness or happiness. However, Abby could hear a little fear in this question. And somehow Abby knew that Kuki's expressive eyes would look the saddest she had ever seen them.

"Not really." Abby set her head back down on her pillow.

"Well, it's kind of silly really." Kuki bowed her head to look at her hands; her long, dark hair fell like a curtain across her face. "It's just like I feel like I know you. Like I used to see you every day and one day I didn't see you and I forgot you. Just like that. It's like a little tick in my head. When you say things like, "Abby knows," I feel like there's an alarm clock going off in my head."

Abby realized the similarities between what Kuki said and what she felt when she looked at Hoagie. There were actually a couple people she felt like she knew, even though she didn't. Like how she knew Wally Beetles' expressions. And she had to admit that while Kuki was often very similar to the other cheerleaders, Abby liked the perky, Asian girl. Now, that Abby had seen a different side of Kuki, she annoyed her way less. "Abby hears ya, girl. I kind of feel like that with Hoagie."

Abby heard a rustle across the room and saw that Rachel had sat up. Kuki was right, Abby did like Rachel. It turned out she was the blond cheerleader that Abby often photographed. It was true that she was very quiet, but Abby saw it more as intelligence than shyness. "I don't know about you guys," Rachel said quietly, yet her voice commanded that they listen, "but I don't remember being a kid. Nigel is all I can remember."

"I don't like this one bit," Kuki decided.

Abby shook her head slowly. She didn't like having to admit that things might not be coincidence.


	3. Chapter 3

****

**A/N: Again, thanks for all the reviews. I realize I never mentioned that if you read my stories, Home and 13, there are some little tie-ins to this story. I'm not just saying that so you read them, there actually are. Check it out if you want, don't if you don't, if you already have, fantastic. Anyway, Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 2

After that night, Abby found herself spending more and more of her time with Kuki and Rachel. She was surprised to figure out that they made her happier than hanging out in the dark room did. They could make her smile. Kuki's cheerfulness and Rachel's empathy became things that Abby couldn't get through the day without.

But she still hadn't talked to Hoagie Gilligan. Sure, Kuki had bothered her about it. Incessantly. The Asian girl had taken to inviting Wally Beatles to eat with them every day at lunch. Wally would sit and talk about his plans with Hoagie, while Kuki smiled a slightly crazed smile at Abby and nodded her head occasionally.

Abby didn't care what Kuki thought really. What in the world would she say to him anyway? People didn't just walk up to other people and go, "Hey! By the way, I have this odd sensation where I feel like I know you." Abby shook her head at the thought. Yeah, that probably was relatively how Wally and Kuki's first conversation started, but Abby wasn't like them. She didn't do things that didn't make sense.

Abby thought about this as she made her way through the hall in her white pants and blue tank top. Her long, dark braid swung across her back with every step. "Hey, wait up a sec!" Abby stopped. That voice was so familiar, like she used to know the face that belonged with it. She turned. It was him, Hoagie Gilligan, with his goggles pushed up onto his forehead like always and a slightly embarrassed grin on his face. He scratched the back of his head, making the auburn hair stand up even more. "Its, uh, Abigail, right?"

"Sure." She brushed off this question, wanting to ask one of her own. "Tell me, did Kuki put you up to this, boy?"

A look of confusion showed on Hoagie's face. "Kuki? Like Kuki Sanban, Wally's girlfriend? No, at least, not that I know of."

"What'd you wanna tell me?" Abby was embarrassed that she had rushed to that conclusion. Hoagie was a smart kid and they probably took some of the same classes. He must need help or something.

"Oh, well…here's the thing, Abby, sometimes I feel like…I don't know. Um, is there anything…There's just this thing…" Hoagie trailed off, looking visibly more embarrassed.

Abby didn't know if she was just hearing what she wanted to hear, or if Hoagie was saying what she thought he was saying. She stared at him a hand placed on one of her slender hips.

He took a deep breath. "Have you ever felt like you know someone you don't?"

Abby looked directly into his eyes, cool blue pools that were oh so familiar. "Maybe."

"You're my maybe."

"What? That don't even make sense," Abby crowed at the boy's comment. Her fingers itched to pull the red hat off her head and give him a smack with it.

"I was going for something a lot cooler there. What I'm trying to say, Abigail, is that every time I look at you, I remember pieces of a childhood that otherwise I have no memory of. Which is absolutely insane. I see the most amazing, impossible things when I look in your eyes," Hoagie explained. "And I was wondering if maybe something like that happens with you?"

Abby stared at the boy with hope in his eyes who stood before her. What could she say? She could lie, she could tell the truth. But in that moment, Abby couldn't say much of anything. Everything she had wished for since the moment she laid eyes on Hoagie had just happened. And Abby realized she was afraid. The word tasted strange to her, as if she had never before used it. Of course, everyone is afraid of something when they are young, right? Abby wasn't so sure. There was a vision she had of a young girl with a red hat and blue shirt that always spoke her mind. A girl who was confident, sarcastic, and sly. A girl whose best friend wore a pair of goggles with yellow tinted lenses. A girl whose name was also Abigail Lincoln.

And that Abigail Lincoln had nothing to be afraid of.

"Yeah," Abby replied. She tilted her chin upward to look Hoagie in the eyes again beneath the rim of her cap. "Yeah it does."

"Now that we've gotten that out of the way," Hoagie smiled, "shall we?"

He offered his hand to Abby. She looked around her to discover the once full hallways had emptied themselves without her realizing. His hand was frozen in the air, waiting for hers to join it.

"Abby says why not." The third person had slipped out, but Abby found that with Hoagie beside her and her hand wrapped safely in his, she couldn't care any less.

* * *

**A/N: This has turned in to the most unrealistic thing I have ever written. That's probably what I get for trying to write a plot. Haha**


	4. Kuki Chapter 4

**A/N: Hooray for Part II! Basically what I've decided is that there will be 3 parts (Part I was the first three chapters) and then a sort of Epilogue at the end. Also, the timeline is a little skewed so keep in mind that this happened prior to the first three chapters, about 2 years prior. It's short, I'm sorry, I always feel guilty when my chapters are short for some reason. So, read on my friends :)**

Part II

Chapter 1

The first class on Kuki's freshman year schedule was Biology, in room W-105 with Mr. Clark. She could see those exact words in her head, as if they had been typed there. Biology sounded just so exciting! Getting to study animals like bunnies and rainbow monkeys! Kuki skipped down the hall on her way to this class, eager to start her first day of high school. As she approached the door, she let out the tiniest squeak of excitement and let herself in.

Five perfectly straight lines of desks stood before her. "Oh, where should I sit?" Kuki asked to the empty room. She smiled and danced over to the center desk of the center row. She pulled her red and white, V-neck cheerleading top down over her slender hips and sat in the seat. Kuki liked this classroom. It had just the right amount of posters to keep her occupied. "Perfect!" she giggled, smoothing her skirt. It was the first time she had ever worn her cheerleading uniform and she already loved it. Kuki was proud to wear the skirt and top and brand new, unscuffed, white shoes. She felt like no one could touch her.

As the clock approached 7:20, Kuki's classmates filed in. There were some kids she recognized, like Lizzie Devine and Joe Balooka, and some she didn't. Kuki had hoped maybe some of the other cheerleaders would be her in class, like Rachel McKenzie, a girl who was slowly becoming Kuki's closest friend. Rachel wasn't very much like Kuki at all; she was reserved and often serious. However, Kuki was drawn to the golden haired girl and trusted her word implicitly. The bell rang, signaling the start of class, and no such cheerleaders had entered the room. Kuki sighed, twirled a long piece of ebony hair around her finger, and pulled out the ginormous, pink notebook she had gotten just for school. She opened the notebook to the very first page and placed her pencil to it. As the pencil began skimming across the page, Kuki could see a sketch of a house taking shape. A house with a tree growing right out the top. This same doodle had plagued the pages of all Kuki's notebooks last year. It was a silly idea, a house with a tree in it, and Kuki didn't think she'd ever seen such a house.

Mr. Clark was taking attendance. He was a tall man with dark hair and Kuki decided he seemed nice. He was on the Ds and so far there was one student not there, a boy named Wallabee. A kind of silly name, Kuki thought, but for whatever reason, when her teacher called it out, her pencil had stopped moving and her cheeks had flushed.

Kuki stared at the tree that now filled her paper. It was much too big to remain completely empty. The tree needed something. _A bird, _Kuki thought, _or a little squirrel! No, that wasn't right. _Kuki sighed.

"C-Coo…Cookie Sanban?" Mr. Clark struggled. "I don't think that's right. I apologize, whoever you are, for butchering your name."

Her classmates snickered and Kuki raised her hand. "It's Kuki," she said politely with a smile.

Mr. Clark opened his mouth to respond when the door burst open to reveal a boy. He was taking deep breaths as though he had just run a long way. "Ah, the ever elusive Mr. Beatles, thanks for showing up; take seat in front of K_u_ki."

Kuki waved at the boy with a silly name. He had hair like sunshine that covered his eyes, but when he lifted his head to see Kuki's hand, she found he had eyes to match. The exact color of the sky. The boy was pretty tall, but it seemed awkward on him, as if he hadn't always been. His bright orange T-shirt strained over the muscles in his arms. As he made his way to his desk, Kuki blushed again. "Hi! My name's Kuki Sanban!"

The boy twisted around in his seat. "Wally Beatles," he said. He had some sort of accent, Kuki noticed; thick and deep and very masculine. Beneath his too long hair, he glanced at Kuki's drawing that was still lying on her desk. "You're missing the tree house," he commented. He looked back up at Kuki and, realizing his words, his blue eyes widened. Wally whipped back around to face the front of the class.

Kuki looked down at her drawing and then back up at Wally's blonde head. _A tree house?_


	5. Chapter 5

Part II

Chapter 2

Kuki sat behind the blonde-headed boy every day in class and waited for him to turn around. He didn't. His bright blue eyes didn't look into hers. That deep accent never spoke her name. Kuki was confused. What had she done wrong? Why didn't this boy like her?

Was it because of the tree that they both seemed to know about?

She couldn't shake out of her head what he had said that first day. She honestly had no idea what he had meant by a tree house, but she wanted to. A new doodle of the tree sat in front of her, naked as always. Maybe a tree house was what it needed. But her pencil did not budge; she could not see this tree house in her mind.

Mr. Clark stood at the front of the class. He turned around and in big, sprawling letters wrote "dissection" across the board. Kuki looked at her classmates as they responded to this. The boys grinned at each other and high-fived. Most of the girls just looked pretty grossed out. However, Kuki sat patiently waiting for her teacher to assign partners, hoping, as always, that Wally was hers. "And hmm, Mr. Beatles, I have to find someone that can keep you in check. Sanban, you feel up for a challenge?"

_How lucky,_ Kuki thought. She wanted to run over and hug Mr. Clark, but instead she nodded. "Sure."

The class nervously made its way over to the lab tables, cutting open frogs was an unexplored territory. "Poor Froggie," Kuki cooed looking at the frog, stretched belly up on the pan. She grabbed the scalpel.

"What are you doing?" Wally exclaimed, finally looking up from his shoes long enough for his blue eyes to look directly into her nearly purple ones. His were filled with shock.

"Isn't the point to cut him open and look in his belly?" She placed the sharp tool on the frog's stomach and skillfully sliced it open.

"Well, yeah," he sputtered. "But, you're a girl." His accent drew out the last word.

Kuki stared at the confused boy. "I feel super-duper sorry for the froggie, but this is what Mr. Clark told us to do. And I've always been good at this doctor-y stuff. Like I used to be a nurse or something. Silly, right?" She poked around inside the frog for a few moments quietly. "Wally," Kuki began, "what does the tree house look like?"

"What tree house?" The boy asked. His gaze reverted to his scuffed-up sneakers.

"The one you said went in the tree I always doodle."

Wally blushed furiously. "Didn't say that ever."

"You did to, meanie! Draw it for me!" The petite Asian pushed up her too long sleeves in frustration and gave the boy her best menacing stare.

"No. Just finish up with the cruddy frog already!" The way he said it was so final that Kuki found she could not press the matter further. Why did he not want to tell her about the tree house? She didn't know. But she did know he was lying to her. Well, she'd just have to catch him off guard like the first time.

After a sufficiently awkward class where Kuki did all the work and Wally memorized his shoes, Kuki skipped out the class room door. A girl with blonde hair pulled up in a ponytail and a sullen looking boy next to her greeted Kuki with a smile. "Hi, Rachel! Hi, Nigel! I just dissected a frog!" Kuki said to the pair.

Nigel just stared at her. Truth be told, Kuki didn't really know what to think of the bald boy. She was nice to him simply because she was never any other way. Kuki was intimidated by Nigel. Rachel always had him in tow, though, and Kuki liked Rachel a lot. "Hey, do either of you guys happen to know a boy named Wallabee Beatles?" Kuki asked.

Rachel's eyebrows scrunched together like they always did when she thought about something. She shook her head. "No, sorry, Kuki. Why do you ask?"

"Yes," Nigel said, his British accent making the word sound the littlest bit more proper. Kuki had only heard Nigel speak maybe twice before. She glanced over at him and met his brown eyes. She had been expecting gray maybe, or black. It was a cold empty, brown, but Kuki had never looked at something brown before and not felt the littlest bit warmer.

"What do you know about him?" She spoke quieter than usual.

"He's one of us," Nigel responded. "I'll see you later, Rachel." His fingers brushed the blonde's for a short second. "Kuki." And he left with a nod.

Rachel sighed and then watched her friend walk off. Rachel was very maternal; Kuki had learned this within hours of first meeting the girl. Kuki was the type of girl that knew love when she saw it and Rachel loved Nigel. But, she was only letting her maternal side show. "Do you know what he meant?" Kuki asked her friend.

"No," Rachel whispered. "But, I wish I did."

Kuki's thoughts flipped back to her talk with Wally. "Me too. Rachel, what's the bestest way to get someone to tell you something they're embarrassed to tell you?"

The taller girl looked down at her ebony haired companion. "I guess you just have to let them know that it's OK and you understand, right?"

Kuki smiled a smile that made her face glow. "I can do that easy peasy."

* * *

**A/N: The dissection part was for Shizuku Tsukishima749. That's how I imagine Kuki'd act when faced with cutting open animals :p**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I had some major issues with this chapter and I still don't love it. But I'm pretty sure this is as good as it's going to get. Part III should be better hopefully or at least a little more interesting. And now I present the conclusion of Part II!**

Chapter 3

His house was in the middle of some sort of factory. Kuki had looked up the directions on the internet, but once she started walking, her feet seemed to carry her there. As if they had walked this path so many times that it became a second nature.

This was a drastic measure, coming to his house. But Kuki had always had a flair for the dramatic. And something told her she and this boy were _supposed_ to be friends. With a fist, she knocked on the door. A middle-aged woman in an apron opened it. A look of surprise passed over her freckled face. "Well, hello, Kuki dear! I can't seem to remember the last time I saw you here!"

Wally's mom knew her. Why did Wally's mom know her?

"Wallabee's just in his room. You remember which one it is right?"

Kuki didn't remember. She'd never been here in her life. But she nodded her dark haired head anyway and headed down the hallway. This whole situation was making her stomach do back flips. One of the doors had loud music playing from it. She knocked.

Wally opened the door and froze for a few seconds. His devastatingly handsome face showed shock, then confusion, then something that looked a little like anger. Wally opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, "Why does your mom know me?"

Kuki had never in her life met someone that liked to stare at their feet so much. "I dunno," Wally mumbled.

"Yes. You. Do. Stop lying to me!" She was suddenly angry at this boy. He proved to her that first day in class that he was haunted by the same things she was. Knowing things you didn't know. Kuki could feel her pale cheeks reddening; two fists were clenched at her sides. She was tired of these constant lies he gave her. Why didn't Wally want to tell her what he knew?

He didn't say anything back to her. He just sat down on his bed. Kuki followed his gaze over to the window. Taped to the wall there was a picture. It was old, the edges were curled. She walked over and ran her fingers over the crayoned form of a little girl. A little girl with a too big green shirt and long dark hair. "This is me," she whispered.

"Most probably," said an embarrassed voice behind her. "I don't remember drawing it. But I couldn't ever throw it away."

Kuki smiled, her anger sudden vanished. "We were friends."

Wally shrugged. "Guess so," he replied. "Like I said, I can't remember. My mom used to ask about you though. And some other kids. Why you weren't around anymore. I never knew what to tell her. And then when I saw you in class, I thought I was losing it or something. I knew right away you had to be the girl in the picture. I've been a jerk. And I-I-I'm sorry."

Kuki couldn't remember ever being so happy. She'd found an answer. And this single answer, Wally and her had been friends, was enough to make up for the heaps of questions she still had. She couldn't stop smiling. Without a second thought, she approached the blonde boy and wrapped her thin arms around his middle.

Wally didn't like to be hugged as a general rule, but he found his arms circling around Kuki's shoulders. Kuki sighed and wondered how she had ever felt safe without this in her life. "It's not like anything else," Wally said.

Kuki pulled back and looked into his blue eyes. "What are you talking about silly?" she giggled.

"The tree house."

Light eyes suddenly filled with interest. "Will you draw it for me, pretty please?"

He nodded his head. "OK."


	7. Rachel Chapter 7

**A/N: Welcome to Part III! Personally, I still don't know if I agree with my decision to continue this story after the Abby/Hoagie section. It seems to have gone downhill. But, I think this section is already a little better than the Kuki/Wally one. So Enjoy!**

Part III

Chapter 1

Rachel McKenzie was looking for Nigel Uno. It was lunch time, but she knew her bald friend would never be caught dead in such a crowded place as the cafeteria. So, she walked the halls to the school, heading for the art room. Rachel spent a significant amount of time in this room, especially considering she'd never once taken an art class.

She wanted to talk to Nigel about what had happened a couple weeks ago at Kuki Sanban's house. Rachel has always known she and Nigel were different. Neither of them could remember their childhood. She could only remember Nigel and he could only remember her. However, Nigel would sometimes have these clairvoyant moments that she never had. There was something odd going on, but it turned out the Kuki and Abby were also in on it. Something that came to Rachel as such a relief and as a message that this was something they could all figure out together.

Rachel turned a corner and stood outside the doorway to her friend's favorite haunt. He wouldn't want to meet Rachel's other friends. But she had to try, for his sake and her own. She pushed open the wooden door and found Nigel hunched over a canvas, a paint brush gripped like a lifeline in his callused fingers.

He always looked happiest when he was painting. He would sit on that stool and pick up a brush and every time she could see his eyes brighten. She could watch him paint forever, just because it made him happy. When he painted, sometimes she would catch a glimpse of the person he might have been.

Rachel didn't know who that boy was or what had happened to him. But, it was more than possible that she would've loved him. Rachel loved the boy that sat before her, too, but he made it hard. Rachel had her doubts that Nigel could feel much of anything. She knew most people would've given up on him by now. But Rachel _never_ gave up. And besides, he was her best friend.

She wanted to, needed to, fix him. There was nothing she could do to replace whatever memories both of them had seemingly lost. But, there are other people like them. Kuki and Abby. More kids with a gaping hole of unexplainable nothingness in their past. Nigel needed to meet them, Rachel knew that much.

Rachel stood up behind him as his hand danced expertly across the canvas. He was painting himself. "Nigel?" she began.

He turned, startled. "Oh, Rachel, did you just come in?" he asked, confusedly. Nigel placed his paintbrush down with care.

It killed her when he got like this. Sometimes, he got so into painting he would forget where he was, what he was supposed to be doing. Rachel shook her blonde head and looked worriedly down at him. "Didn't you hear the door?"

"No. You were saying?" He glanced up at her expectedly.

Rachel inhaled. He wouldn't like what she was going to suggest. "Maybe this weekend you'd come over to Abby's with me? She's like us, Nigel. I think it'd be good for you." She said all of this quickly before he could interrupt.

The bald boy turned his head back towards the painting taking shape in front of him. "No."

Rachel had expected this. Nigel didn't talk to anyone beside her. He never sought the company of others. She was pretty sure he didn't even want her around half the time. "Nigel, you know what your mom said," she warned.

Nigel's parents were worried. And they had a right to be. The way they saw it, Nigel had gone from an outgoing, vibrant kid to a sullen, quiet boy in a matter of days. And then stayed in this worry-inducing manner for four years. The word 'therapy' had been tossed around the Uno household recently. Rachel was going to do anything in her power to make sure that didn't happen. If there was something wrong with Nigel, she would be the one to figure it out. She would be the one to save him.

"My mother can do whatever she pleases," Nigel replied.

Rachel wanted to rip that paintbrush out of his fingers. She wanted to make him _see_. See what she was trying to do for him; what she'd been trying to do for almost four years. But she didn't, because that wasn't what he needed. "I want to help you," Rachel whispered.

For the second time, Nigel's head turned and he looked at her. He had brown eyes; she knew that as well as she knew that the same was true about her. But, sometimes, Rachel swore they were black. Like a hole. A hole that no one had any hope of ever climbing out of. "You can't."

A range of emotions washed over the blonde girl. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to make _him_ cry, or show some actual emotions for once in his life. Rachel did _not_ want to let this go, but that's what she did. A shaky breath. He was having a bad day, that's all. She'd try again tomorrow. Rachel turned and left the room quietly. Nigel was always happiest when he was painting, anyway.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 2

Kuki giggled at something Wally said. Rachel sighed. She wondered why they got to have it so easy. Why it was effortless for them to be together. Kuki hadn't even known Wally until they started high school. The Asian girl had told Rachel that she and Wally used to be friends, but Kuki hadn't remembered the boy. Rachel _remembered_ Nigel. They had a head start, but were lagging behind.

Rachel stood up from the table, unable to watch anymore of their sickeningly cute romance. She was honestly just not in the mood. "I'm gonna run to the art room. See you at practice, Kuki." And Rachel was off.

Nigel had a class this hour. English, actually. Embarrassingly, she knew his entire schedule. Rachel was on her way to do something awful. Something she told herself she would never do under any circumstances. Rachel was going to look at Nigel's painting. It was often the only way to get into the boy's head, but she always waited for his permission to do so. _Until today that is_, she reminded herself.

The door to the art room was always unlocked so that kids like Nigel could come and go as they pleased. The painting sat in the far corner of the room, still propped up on an easel as if waiting for the boy to come and finish it. It looked like it was done though, freshly done. As Rachel approached, she could smell the bitter scent of acrylic paint drying. The smell of this paint always reminded her of Nigel. It seemed to lace all his clothes and stick to his hands. Similar to how fishermen always smelled of fish, a painter smelled of his paint.

Rachel was upset to realize that this particular painting of Nigel's didn't appear to be anything special. It was exquisite, of course. As always. So much care and detail put into every stroke of the brush. But it failed to prove what Rachel wanted it to. She had desired something that showed he wanted the same things she did. Truly, though, this was just a painting of her friend, the way he viewed himself.

The background of this painting was a dark blue that was nearly black. Rachel pulled up a stool, planning to stay a while to study Nigel's painting. Against this gloomy back drop, Nigel stood vibrant in red. His bald head seemed to reflect some sort of invisible light. White knuckled fists, which he appeared to have spent the most time on, were clenched next to his thighs. And his eyes, black. So black. Rachel sat in silence trying to find something, even the most insignificant something, that could help her.

Just as she was about to turn her back on Nigel's creation, she realized the uneven layers of the background. It was slight, something a person not versed in art would never notice. But, Rachel knew Nigel, and he would _never_ be anything less than attentive when it came to these things. This was no mistake. At least, it was not a mistake Nigel could control.

As Rachel pulled a floor lamp over to shine on the painting, she found herself thinking that this might be what she needed. Nigel would never knowingly paint an uneven background, but maybe it hadn't been knowingly. Perhaps there was something hidden behind the bold focus of the art. Something Nigel didn't even know was there. And then she could show him why he needed to meet the others; these others who also had more questions then answers. With the light spilling down on the canvas, there appeared to be some sort of pattern to the background. Rachel pointed a finger out, as if she were going to touch the painting, and starting in a corner, traced the digit along the uneven line. She was surprised to find that she had traced a 5. The number five was painted discreetly into the background of this painting. And, she found out as she continued, so was a 4, 3, 2, and, last, a 1.

Rachel dropped her hand to her side, stood up, pulled the lamp back where it belonged, and pushed in her stool. As she left, she was so much more confused than when she had entered. Why were those numbers, 5 through 1, the background to Nigel's self portrait? Did they mean anything? Were they a countdown? Did he know they were there? Or was this all a sort of coincidence that Rachel's overactive imagination had blown completely out of proportion? These questions mingled with the plethora that already filled Rachel's mind, zooming around her brain trying to piece a mystery so much bigger than just she and Nigel together.

* * *

Just as she had most days before, Rachel went to sit with Nigel in the art room during lunch. This day differed from the others in that Rachel had an answer. Well, the answer happened to be a question and that question happened to lead to dozens more, but at least it was _something_. He sat just as he did every day. Stick straight on his stool, his eyes filled with the most light they'd hold all day. Nigel was putting the finishing touches on the painting that Rachel, unbeknownst to the boy, had inspected only a few hours ago.

The blonde teenager truly dreaded telling her friend what she had done. Because she knew to him it was unforgiveable. Rachel hoped that when all was said and done, when they had solved the mystery that had plagued their lives for nearly four years, he could forgive her. Oh, she hoped.

The metallic screech of stool legs against linoleum shocked Nigel out of his concentrated state. He turned to stare at her, startled as always. "There's a five." Rachel pointed. "There, right there."

"Rachel, I'm kind of busy here." Nigel brushed her off. His paintbrush still moved across the canvas and for the second time recently she wanted to pry it from his unwilling fingers.

She was fuming and she couldn't remember ever being angrier at the boy who sat in front of her. Nigel had _no_ right to brush her off like that. Who exactly did he think he was? Rachel doubted he would've made it here without her. "There is a _5_ painted into the background of that painting, Nigel. Did you know that?" She moved to stand between him and the easel. His eyes glowed angrily. There, that was the emotion she'd been looking for. Anger was better than nothing. "A 4, 3, 2, and 1, as well."

Calmly, always calmly, he placed the paintbrush on the lip of the easel, reaching around her slender body to do so. Nigel's wrist brushed her hip and she shivered slightly. He however seemed unperturbed by the casual contact that had shaken her so. "What are you trying to tell me, Rachel? I'm not a mind reader." The words flowed from his lips so slowly and deliberately.

"That's my point! I don't know, you don't know, nobody freaking knows, Nigel! But don't you think that _maybe_ it's worth trying to figure out?" Rachel regretted speaking, yelling, really, the words as soon as they left her mouth. She froze, wishing she could reach out and grab the words out of the air before they reached Nigel.

But, the bald boy had already heard and he let a huge, pregnant pause inhibit the room. His arms, covered in his favorite red sweater, crossed over his chest. "I don't see the point. It could so easily be a coincidence."

Nigel Uno was possibly the most infuriatingly stubborn boy she had ever met in her life. And she didn't care what he thought of her any more. Rachel wouldn't watch her mouth, she wouldn't tiptoe around the lines she herself had carefully drawn to protect the boy's feelings. He would hear what he so desperately needed to hear.

Rachel placed a hand, shaky with anger, beneath the boys chin. Her usually warm brown eyes met his usually dead brown eyes. In that moment, both were filled with unimaginable anger. Anger at each other, the world, themselves. "That is bullshit, Nigel," Rachel said quietly. "And you know it."

The door slammed, shaking a nearby painting, when the blonde girl left the bald boy sitting alone with those words echoing through his head, stupefied.

* * *

**A/N: I think I made my own Nigel OOC in this chapter. He just seems very mean. And this was a long chapter, I realize, at least for this fic. But, in other news, my little brother made me knd stickers. He brought them home and he was so proud of them. We're pretty much KND buddies. Its how we bond. **


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 3

She flew down the hallways, wanting to go nowhere but her home. Her bed. Rachel wanted to burrow herself down in the sheets until it was quiet enough and dark enough to pretend that what had just happened did not just happen.

Rachel had _never_ yelled at Nigel. What if he was mad at her? So mad that she became what every other person was to him. Invisible. Unwilling to think these thoughts, Rachel did, for the second time that day, something she promised herself she would never do. She ditched school. The supervisors were easy enough to sneak past and once she was off campus, she walked, jogged, the two miles home.

When she reached her room- small, blue, _hers_- she found herself thinking about Nigel yet again. He defined her; Rachel could not think of herself unless it was in terms of her bald, broken best friend. Sure, she was a cheerleader, honor student, shoe-in for class president next year, but Nigel was more striking and important than all of those things combined.

Eventually, the blonde teenager, who was buried deep, but not deep enough to escape these thoughts, under her covers, drifted off into a light sleep. Rachel's dreams were filled with what life would be like without him. Without the joy that filled his eyes while painting, without the rare, but so sweet, brushes of his skin against hers, without any hope of ever helping him.

The sensation of staring eyes shook her from these dreams. Her eyes opened to meet a pair of brown eyes, so dark they were almost black and so stormy it was like he could be watching a battle take place. Maybe he was; Rachel had always thought those eyes had seen so much more than was right. But there was something else, something deep within the eyes of her friend. Something she hadn't seen there ever in her memory. Hurt. "How long have you felt this way?" Nigel asked, no emotion in his voice to rival that in his eyes.

Rachel sat up and looked down at her lap guiltily. She had upset him. "Felt how?" That harsh tone from earlier had disappeared.

Nigel walked over to her desk and sat down in the chair. "I made you this way," he stated simply.

And there wasn't much she could say to that. Because she knew as well as he did that it was true. On a normal day, Rachel would've denied it. Flat out. But things had not exactly been normal, and she no longer trusted herself to know what Nigel needed. "I think, maybe, we both did this." Rachel stood up from her bed and walked forward to stand in front of him. "I won't lie any more, Nigel. You've hurt me," she paused, a lump stuck embarrassingly in her throat, "so much." Rachel let her eyes flutter close as she reached out her hands slowly to touch his.

Their hands lay perched on the top of the chair and she could've sworn his tightened the smallest bit around hers. "You're my best friend," the blonde girl continued, "and for the last four years everything in my life has revolved around you. I mean, how bad is it when a simple smile from your best friend can brighten an entire week?"

Nigel nodded slowly. "It shouldn't be that way for you, Rachel. You don't need to worry about me anymore." His thumbs brushed so, so lightly across her wrist, making her shiver as always. "I shouldn't be a project of yours. You'd be much better off without me. I'll be fine; I have painting." The words left his mouth confidently. Nigel was not trying to convince himself of their truth. He believed it.

Rachel could feel the tears well up in her eyes. She couldn't cry. Rachel T. McKenzie did _not_ cry. Under any circumstances. She was supposed to be the strong one. Nigel leaned on _her_ and it could never be the other way around. She stared down into his emotionless eyes. And Rachel lost all strength. A day of firsts. "I don't want to leave you," she whispered. _Don't say it, Rachel. Not that word, not that word_. "I n-n-need you."

The room was suddenly filled to the brim. Those blue walls just not wide enough to hold them both. Why was it that all this had to come out? Rachel was supposed to be like a brick wall, unbending, standing erect on his own. And, Nigel, he was like the person who leaned against the wall to take a quick breath. The wall didn't need the person. But Rachel undoubtedly needed Nigel. She needed the glint in his eye when a paintbrush hit his fingers, she needed the occasional smile that shone on his face, she needed the feeling of his fingers around hers, she needed the sound of his voice, controlled, never unsure.

Maybe, she and Nigel were just two people. Leaning against _each other_ to catch a breath.

The feel of his hands, sliding up her arms, neck, to rest against her cheeks, overwhelmed her. "You could have told me," Nigel said.

Rachel shook her head slowly, rustling her gold hair. "Would you have heard me?" she asked him. But already she knew the answer.

And there, _there_, was the emotion that had been missing from his eyes for too long. Guilt, sadness, fear, hurt. So much emotion that she had to wonder how he could even feel that much. "There are just so many things I don't know, Rachel. And sometimes I feel so unbelievably empty. Like I'm a fraction of a person. But, you have to know that you're the only person that makes me feel anywhere near full. When I paint, you being there is what makes me happy." Nigel ran a piece of her hair between two fingers. "And that scares me. Completely terrifies me. I think I'm afraid that if I stop waiting around for all the answers, I'll never find them. But I'm also afraid to look. And, Rachel, I'm so, so sorry I've put you through hell. You don't deserve it in the least."

Under his fingers, Rachel could feel her skin redden. When her eyes met his, there was something so close to warmth and no trace of black. "I'll look with you," she promised.

Slowly, painstakingly so, Rachel brought her forehead to his. And, pressed this close, it was easy for her to pretend they were all that mattered on Earth. That there was no mystery, no questions; nothing was unexplainable. There was only the two of them and that was all they needed to know.

Nigel closed the gap between them. Pressing his lips firmly to hers. And a promise was sealed; a promise that whatever it was, they'd find it together. But, in the meantime, Rachel didn't need to spend any more of her time looking for Nigel Uno. Because he was there; and he always would be. Especially when either of them needed to catch a breath.

* * *

**A/N: Nigel and Rachel are so dramatic and heavy. Anyways, on to the Epilogue aka The Chapter Where Everyone Meets At Abby's House! I'd like to give Thanks to all my lovely (or handsome) reviewers and everyone that told me to keep writing this all the way back in Chapter 1!**


	10. Epilogue

**A/N: Even though I'm like 99% sure everyone that used to follow this story is like gone now, I had to finish it for myself. So, anyway, if you're out there, I'm sorry I'm such a dud and took forever on this. And I'm not sure its good enough to make up for it taking like two months or whatever**

El Epilogue

Hoagie and Abby sat uncomfortably straddling that line between friends and something more. It had been weeks since that day in the hall. The day everything in Abby's life had suddenly turned around. Now she had two best friends…and whatever Hoagie was to her.

The goggled boy lay splayed across Abby's bed, while Abby took her post at the foot. He picked up her braid and ran it through his fingers. "So, who's coming here?" he asked her. A sheepish look spread across his face.

"Abby's told you this at least four times, baby. Kuki and Wally, Nigel and Rachel," Abby repeated.

He flipped onto his back, arms straight out, and nudged her head with his socked foot. "And, I'm supposed to remember them?"

Slightly annoyed, the dark-skinned girl moved her head out of Hoagie's range. She had learned, after being the boy's friend for about five minutes that he _never_ stopped moving. And his brain never stopped whirring either. "Well, you remember Abby and I remember you. Kuki remembers Abby. Nigel and Rachel remember each other. And Kuki was talking about some tree house thing that she and Wally remember. So, yeah, Abby would say you will probably remember someone."

Hoagie nodded his head slightly at the notion before sitting up. "Can we go get some food?"

* * *

Nigel Uno dragged his sneakered feet along the sidewalk as he made the trek from his house to this 'Abigail's' house with Rachel. "You're completely sure we have to do this?" he asked her for the umpteenth time that day.

In response, she smiled a pained smile. Like she was gritting her teeth to keep from yelling at him until she was blue in the face. Abruptly she stopped and grabbed the boy's hand in both of hers. "You _promised_ me, Nigel. And all those years, I never broke the promise I made to you."

He stared at her. And everything replayed in his mind. All those years of him brooding and painting, only caring about himself, she was standing right next to him in every memory. Her large brown eyes filled with worry. Nigel didn't want to be that person any more. He wanted to be _worthy_ of her. So, he found his bald head nodding slowly. Nigel picked up his feet, and followed Rachel.

* * *

Kuki Sanban sat on her bedroom floor with a box in front of her. She couldn't help but feel that the box held something special. And so, she was hesitant to open it, afraid that her suspicions would be false. It had been under her bed. Shoved to the very back by years of junk and she couldn't seem to remember it at all.

She had learned, especially in the last few weeks, that the things she could not remember were all often related. And that was why she sat, with shaking hands, the box unopened in front of her. Kuki picked up her small pink phone and flipped it open, pressing a number she pressed more than any other.

Moments later, he appeared at her doorstep. Wally Beatles. The person who had taught her that it was OK to be unsure, to not know. Kuki grabbed his elbow and dragged him upstairs to her bedroom.

"You brought me here to see a cruddy box?" the boy groaned, used to his girlfriend's antics, but annoyed all the same.

Kuki shook her head and grinned. Wally never failed to amuse her. "Wally, I have a feeling about this box." He raised an eyebrow and sighed. "I need you to open it for me."

Wally grumbled to himself as he sat on her pink shag rug and opened the small box. Kuki watched as his eyebrows scrunched together in slight confusion. "What the-"

Immediately, Kuki dropped to her knees next to him. She lightly pushed the blonde boy out of the way as she too leaned over the box. Her thin, lithe fingers sifted through its contents. Kuki could not remember ever smiling with such happiness.

* * *

The six sat in a circle. Letting an almost reverent silence fill the room as they took each other in. The feeling of familiarity was _so_…present. They could taste the memories, sweet, on the tips of their tongues. Sunglasses dark as night, yellow-tinted goggles, toys upon toys, too much violent television, a vivid red cap, a tiger-striped sweater.

The petite Asian giggled and plopped herself down in the blonde's lap. "I feel so full right now," she smiled. "Like I could live in this moment forever."

Wally rolled his eyes and handed Kuki the box.

"What's in the box, girl?" Abby asked.

Kuki paused, meeting the eyes of each person in the circle. Letting them each see pure joy swim in her light orbs. "This," she began, patting the box as if it were a pet, "this holds the answers to everything." Sacredly, Kuki lifted the lid off the old box and, then, she unceremoniously dumped everything out of it onto the floor.

Photos, notes, odd little receipt-like strips of paper, pieces of candy, blueprints, a pair of dark shades, and so, _so_ much more scattered in the middle of the circle. And they each found themselves reaching for a different object.

The blonde haired girl held a photo delicately in her hands. It was old, the children in it probably around nine. And she could tell they were happy, arms slung casually around each other's shoulders and smiles overwhelming their faces. Slowly, she took in the circle of people around her and easily matched them to the happy children in this picture.

She was not in the picture.

Rachel glanced to her right and found Nigel turning the pair of sunglasses over in his hands. They were his, according to the picture she held, he must've given them to Kuki. She watched as a small smile crept over the boy's face. Rachel couldn't help but smile too.

Abby was looking at the receipt-like strip of paper. Something called a mission spec. Something that she couldn't make anything out of. She slipped the paper between her fingers as she read through the codes and such. And there, at the bottom of the rather long sheet, was something she did recognize. _Numbuh 362 (aka Rachel T McKenzie, Supreme Leader of the Kids Next Door)_.

The dark-skinned girl had no idea what this kids next door business was. But, Rachel McKenzie happened to be sitting right next to her, studying an old photo with a sad look in her eyes. Abby nudged her friend and handed over the sheet of paper without a word.

There was a question, in the back of each of their heads. Quiet at first, but as they looked through the treasures that Kuki had shoved under bed, gaining volume. _What had they been?_

"A leader," Rachel whispered, repeating her title over and over again in her head until she could almost remember somebody calling her it.

"A freaking genius!" Hoagie crowed, pouring over the blueprints written in handwriting he recognized as his own, while wondering how any of it was even _remotely_ possible.

"A candy hunter?" Abby questioned, reading through a letter written by her and addressed to Kuki, postmarked from _Guatemala_ of all places.

"Kind of a jerk," Wally murmured, thumbing through a very extensive list of all the things of Kuki's he had broken when they were children.

"Happy," Kuki smiled, glancing around at what she had done, what she had given to all of her friends.

"Whole," Nigel nodded, placing the too-small sunglasses atop his head.

They had been something called the _Kids Next Door_. And that seemed to ring a bell somewhere deep in each of their minds. As if it had been shoved back there, much like a box under a bed.

They couldn't really remember these things and nobody would ever be able to tell them whether they were right or wrong or somewhere in between. But they could almost seem to remember being this way, feeling this way. They felt familiar. They felt right. They felt like _them_.

* * *

**A/N: I'm tearing up the smallest bit as I write this. I'll miss this fic :-( Let me know what your favorite part was of the whole thing. and maybe a favorite line/paragraph if you have one :D Thanks for sticking it out with me!**


End file.
